


After the Flood

by Sath



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Dark, Huddling For Warmth, M/M, Sexual Content, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-11
Updated: 2018-11-11
Packaged: 2019-08-21 22:09:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16585148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sath/pseuds/Sath
Summary: In a world where Dracula was able to kill his son and win at Braila, Hector has no one but Isaac.





	After the Flood

Hector stood on the walkway of Dracula’s castle, shivering in the cold. He hadn’t thought of how many sheep would be at the end of the world. It turned out there were plenty. They dotted the landscape outside the ruins of Prague, peacefully living out the winter. But come spring, no one would be there to shear them. Hector was seeing it everywhere now, signs of how the loss of humans interrupted other lives.

Dracula’s war moved slowly. After killing his son, he’d grown even less interested in his own aims. Hector could understand that, he supposed. They had been in Prague for weeks now; Dracula claimed that he was planning their next move, but Hector suspected he was just drawing things out. His forgemasters couldn’t live for very long without other humans to supply them, at least not comfortably. Dracula was probably waiting for them to die.

God, Hector could do with a glass of wine. Rhodes never got so fucking cold, and every cloak his night creatures brought back to him had holes in it. Hector was ready to go back inside when Isaac joined him on the walkway.

“Morning,” Hector said, crossing his arms in an effort to keep warm. “I was about to head inside.”

Isaac was in an enviably warm-looking cloak. “You keep odd hours, for a man devoted to vampires and night creatures.”

“I like the sun.”

“There are less people you must share it with, now.”

“I didn’t want this,” Hector replied. The rampant killing, the empty cities, those damn sheep about to smother in their own wool… It made no difference to Isaac.

“I know.” Isaac paused, looking out at the sheep. “I did not find myself wanting human conversation until I no longer had to avoid it.”

“So you were longing to converse with me?”

“I would not go that far,” Isaac replied. “Your conversation has never interested me much before.”

Hector was far from devastated, but Isaac’s utter lack of interest in him was still irritating. Isaac had Dracula for company, but Hector was left with nothing. He’d been allowed back in the castle after following Carmilla, as if he were merely a wayward boy.

“But I may as well be the last man on earth to you,” Hector said.

“Yes. If your hands are so cold, why don’t you get a second glove?”

“Because we’ve killed all the glovemakers in Prague.”

Isaac chuckled. “We haven’t killed all the _gloves_. Why don’t we go to the city?”

“Am I that pathetic?”

“No,” Isaac replied. “But Dracula wishes we got along better.”

“You see, he still talks to you.”

“And how much company did you keep before he found you at Rhodes?” Isaac asked, skipping over the subject of Dracula entirely.

Hector furrowed his brows and glared at the sheep. “That wasn’t by choice.”

“Human cruelty does not have to concern you anymore.”

It would always concern him. Hector felt like he was picking up pieces of it wherever they went. Isaac, though—he wasn’t cruel. Just absolute.

“Fine,” Hector said. “I’ll go to Prague with you.”

* * *

They rode horses into the city. Unlike their first targets, Prague had had warning, enough to make its death slow. Even the most remote shepherd’s hut was being boarded up now, trying to fortify against Dracula’s revenge. Hector’s horse delicately stepped around the bodies, until it was zig-zagging up the street. The night hordes had stopped bringing corpses back for forging; there were already more than enough. 

“If we follow the roads that look the most-traveled, we can find the shops,” Isaac said.

“Or perhaps we could find a survivor to tell us where to find a glovemaker,” Hector grumbled.

“I’m sure helping us would be foremost on their mind.”

The remains of traffic led them to the cathedral. It loomed over them, a monument to human faith in the afterlife. Hector lacked Dracula’s complete denial of God. Bringing the dead back to life made it a little harder not to believe that power lay beyond the veil. Hector reined in his horse.

There were holes in the roof where night creatures had forced their way in, and one of the doors was hanging by its hinges. It swung back and forth with the wind, but the angle was wrong for Hector to be able to see very far inside.

“Are you thinking of going in?” Isaac asked.

“I might.”

“You will not like what you find there. The cathedral is where everyone fled.”

“Does all this death please you?”

Isaac’s face was impassive. “Prague is peaceful now. Surely you can appreciate that.”

“Because everyone is _dead._ ”

“And you had your part in it.”

Hector had no wish to see the results of his work. It’s not like he had any choice in what he did anymore—if Hector left, that would only put him on the chopping block with the rest of humanity, and he preferred to live. He nudged his horse into a walk. “I don’t think you’ve ever cared for anyone else,” Hector said. “The only thing you care about is annihilation.”

“I’ve loved. It didn’t end well for him, or for me.”

Isaac loving someone? Hector couldn’t imagine it. But then, he didn’t know Isaac well—not as well as Isaac seemed to know him.

“Have you ever loved anyone?” Isaac asked.

“No,” Hector admitted. “I couldn’t. People are repulsed by me.”

“They don’t understand your pets.”

“I understand my pets. I know what they need, how they feel…” 

“But you can’t do the same for people. I know, Hector,” Isaac said.

“Will you stop doing that? The thing you do where you read me perfectly and announce it all with that dry tone of yours, as if I’m so damn interesting but also wretched, as if you’ve got one emotion to spare and you’ve decided to bless me with your pity?”

“Would you rather I had killed you for betraying Dracula?” 

Hector clenched the reins and said nothing.

“I see a glovemaker,” Isaac said, pointing ahead.

The shop had a sign showing a fox running with a glove in its mouth. Hector dismounted and walked inside. There was just enough light left to illuminate the inside of the shop—they had managed to waste most of the day searching the city, and the sun was setting. The shop was stocked with gloves and nothing else. Hector had dozens of choices, but none of them matched the quality of the one that Dracula had given him. His tailor, unfortunately, had been human. Hector finally settled on a fur-lined pair that would keep him warm, albeit not as fashionably as he’d learned he liked. As he turned to leave, Isaac put a hand over his mouth and pulled him back into a dark corner.

A night creature was stalking the horses. It was neither Hector nor Isaac’s creation, and it was as massive as the creature he’d sent to break into the Belmont library. How could nature have crafted something so huge? Exterminating humanity had truly tipped the balance of the world. The monster batted at Hector’s horse, slamming him to the ground before it lifted him to its lips. Hector looked away. The noise the animal made as he was consumed was more than enough.

Isaac’s horse had fled. The night creature wiped at its mouth, turning its head as if it had heard something. Hector held his breath. The night creature shook itself and moved on, walking in the same direction that Isaac’s horse had ran. Isaac released him.

“The city isn’t safe at night,” Isaac said. “We could forge ourselves guards.”

“The light would attract it, and even I couldn’t make something that big without preparation.”

“Then we’re better off staying here and waiting until morning.”

Hector sighed. It had grown even colder as the sun had passed over the horizon.

“Here,” Isaac said, wrapping his cloak around Hector’s shoulders. “I don’t want to see you trembling until sunrise.”

Hector was too cold to tell Isaac to stuff it. Isaac went to the door and closed it, then made sure the shutters were fast.

“It won’t keep the creature out, of course,” he said, “but it will hide us better, since it can’t fly. Shall we go upstairs?”

The floor above the shop was the owners' apartment. They must have died elsewhere; their living space was in disarray from hurried packing. Perhaps they were still alive somewhere, hiding in the hills. Hector cracked open the shutters. What would happen if the night creature came back? Would Isaac have the strength to kill it? There might be dozens of them in Prague, emerging from the death throes of an entire species.

How ironic it would be, if Dracula’s forgemasters were devoured by a night creature. Hector was surprised that he wasn’t afraid. He didn’t want to die—he’d already seen how far he’d go to survive—but he didn’t much care for living anymore, either.

Isaac sat back against the wall, wrapping the glovemaker’s sheepskin around his shoulders. Hector debated whether he wanted to sit on the bed or in one of the chairs, but settled instead on joining Isaac. It wasn’t as comfortable a spot as Isaac had made it look.

“If we die here,” Hector said, “Dracula will exterminate humanity all at once.”

“Fast or slow, it makes no difference in the end.”

“But it does! Humans can adapt to a changing environment; if they have enough time, perhaps they can learn how to survive the vampire plague.”

“Vampires,” Isaac replied, “have eternity.”

Isaac was warm where their shoulders brushed against each other.

“Why do you want your own species to die out entirely?” Hector asked.

“That’s quite the question.” Isaac’s lips quirked. “Because Dracula asked, and I do not care for us.”

“But you loved someone once.”

“And he beat me, so I put out his eyes.”

Hector drew his knees up to his chest, trying to stay warm as he started to shiver. Isaac shifted some of the sheepskin over Hector’s shoulders and put his arm around him, drawing him closer. Hector had no idea why Isaac was being kind to him, and he was suspicious of it.

“Do you detest me, Isaac? After what I did?”

“No. You were right, though—I do pity you. You always want more company than you get. Pets aren’t enough.”

“You say that, and yet you’re holding me anyway.”

“You’re cold,” Isaac replied. “And as you said, you may as well be the last man on earth.”

Hector thought of humanity being reduced to two people who barely spoke to each other. Surely even Isaac didn’t want that? Hector rested his head on Isaac’s shoulder, wondering if he could go further. If something went wrong—Isaac and his pity were all Hector had. He was exhausted by isolation, and sick of being alone in a castle that was home to hundreds. In a way, the only difference between his life in Rhodes and his life in Dracula’s service was that at least in Rhodes he’d been warm.

Loneliness was what finally drove Hector to press his lips to Isaac’s. He flinched at the thought of being pushed away, but instead Isaac kissed him back. Isaac cupped Hector’s face in his hand, and Hector found himself leaning into the heat of Isaac’s palm. Hector wanted to be closer to him—he wanted more warmth, and more of Isaac, who was strange and sometimes frightening but also _human_ , with all that meant in a dying world.

“You’re lonely too,” Hector said, straddling him.

“Yes,” Isaac replied, and kissed him again, gently pushing his tongue past Hector’s lips.

It felt like Hector’s skin was aflame. He’d never had contact with someone else like this, and Isaac seemed in no hurry. Hector unfastened Isaac’s chest piece so he could unbutton the tunic below it and feel Isaac’s bare skin. Isaac wrapped his arm around Hector’s waist and pressed his hand to Hector’s nape, guiding the angle of the kiss.

Everything came back to touch. Neither of them could be sated. They ended up stripping to the waist, letting the danger outside be damned. Isaac reached into Hector’s breeches, and Hector had to break the kiss so he could bite his own lip. It was so much better than when he did it to himself, and he clumsily returned the favor, distracted by his own pleasure. But Isaac must have been just as affected, for they nearly came together.

Afterwards, Hector tucked his head under Isaac’s chin, nestling as close as he could, and fell asleep.

* * *

The morning light streaming through the shutters woke Hector up. He was still pressed up against Isaac, who had one arm around him. It felt like they were bespelled, and it would be broken the moment Isaac’s eyes opened. They couldn’t stay like this.

Hector decided to break the spell first. He pulled off the sheepskin and dressed himself before he threw open the shutters. It wasn’t long before Isaac stirred and awakened. He looked around, as if he were surprised to be alone.

“Your horse came back to us," Hector said.

“She’s a loyal animal,” Isaac replied, pulling his tunic over his head.

Hector eyed the bloodstain that was all that remained of his own horse. “We’ll have to ride double if we want to return to the castle in any hurry.” It would be too much for a living horse, but not one that had been forged. “Unless you have an objection?”

“No.”

They descended the stairs and went outside. Isaac mounted his horse first, then gave Hector a hand as he swung up behind him. Hector knew he ought to say something, but what? Should he tell Isaac that nothing had to change and they could just forget what happened? Give him a polite ‘thank you’ for taking his virginity?

Isaac urged his horse into a walk and saved him from thinking further. “I don’t have any regrets. Do you?”

“I don’t know. We must remain in each other’s company, after all.”

“Do you not want it repeated?”

Hector flushed. “I do want you.”

“Then I still have no regrets. Dracula wanted us to become closer.”

“Is that why you—”

“No.”

Hector found himself more grateful than he could express. Isaac didn’t loathe or fear him, like all the other humans. They shared the same nature, after all. There had been a rightness in being skin to skin that Hector hadn’t felt in a long time. It seemed like as long as Isaac could be there for him, Hector might survive the sorrow to come.

“This is how it should be,” Isaac said. “If the world is to be emptied, I want love to remain.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Jag, Suz, Havisham, and Nisie for all encouragement!


End file.
